


Wretched and Chained

by Wickedly



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series), Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: Abusive Valentino (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor Being a Jerk (Hazbin Hotel), Alternate Universe - Human, Angel Dust is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bottom Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Cannibal Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Canon-Typical Violence, Demon Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Homophobic Language, Hurt Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kinda?, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28404339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wickedly/pseuds/Wickedly
Summary: Angel Dust is framed for murder and sent to a maximum security prison, full of psychopaths and serial killers alike. Surviving in this new world seems like quite the challenge, especially with the one responsible for the true crime being locked up with him.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello, and welcome to a very morally questionable piece of literature. this story will likely be very dark, containing themes like murder, graphic descriptions of gore, physical and sexual assault, unhealthy relationships, and lots of general angst and unhappy stuff. please mind the tags and don’t read this if you’re uncomfortable with anything i’ve listed. i will be updating them as i go along. 
> 
> also, i know that alastor is canonically asexual, but for the purposes of this story he won’t be.

Dread was all Angel felt as the police car he now sat in the back of steadily approached the prison gates. His trial had ended in failure: he’d been found guilty of aiding in homicide. Charged with first degree murder. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t true, he just simply couldn’t prove that he actually was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

His background hadn’t done him any favors in proving his innocence, being from a long line of mobsters notorious for their violent ways. He didn’t want to carry on his family tradition, but that never prevented people from their blind ignorance. To the rest of the world he seemed a mere accomplice to a terrible crime. A crackwhore who was always destined for hell. 

His mind flashed back to the gruesome scene in which his life had been changed for the worst. The biting cold, the absolute horror that he had felt in his bones as he stood paralyzed at the mouth of the alleyway. Whatever creature stared back at him from the darkness was not human. Their form was contorted, their limbs too long, their eyes too sinister, too empty. But no, as they stood from beside the mangled corpse and turned their body towards him, he could see they were in fact human. A man; though not really, by all other qualifications they were simply a monster. 

And then there were the police sirens, the lights that flashed against the faded alley walls, that reflected in the beast’s eyes as he slowly advanced towards Angel. His face, smeared in scarlet, was curled into a wicked grin. With one quick movement he had closed a hand around the blonde’s slender wrist and yanked him forward into the darkness. 

Angel had stumbled over himself and then was falling fast, towards the pavement before he could even process what was happening. And to make it worse, he had landed right on top of the now unrecognizable body splayed out on the concrete, staining his clothes an unholy shade of crimson. He had screamed, hurriedly pushing himself off of the corpse but not before the damage had been done. The police rounded the corner and there he was, soaked head to toe in deep red blood, standing next to a murderer. The look the man had given him would haunt his nightmares until he died; a look that told him: ‘If I’m going down, I’m dragging you down with me.’ 

And now here he was, Hazbin Penitentiary, a maximum security prison that he from this day onward would call his new home. Where he would spend the rest of his life (if he could even make it that far). To say he wasn’t excited by the prospect of rooming with psychopaths would be an understatement. He was used to dealing with ruffians, but serial killers weren’t something he was prepared to handle.

He was brought back to reality when he was grabbed harshly by the shoulders and ushered out of the car. His eyes darted around wildly as he was led through the prison’s tall, metal doors. The room he found himself in was empty except for rows of lockers that lined the walls on both sides. Everything was so overwhelmingly grey, a color scheme he could already feel crushing the life out of him. 

The officer who had led him there released his hold and gave him a stern look. When Angel made no move to attack or run, the policeman turned and went back out the door. Angel thought about catching it before it closed, maybe he could make a run for it. But in the end he just let it fall shut, knowing better than to attempt something so blatantly foolish. 

He stood awkwardly in silence, now completely alone. His paranoia had never been so strong before, and it had been years since he’d had a mental relapse. Yet now here he was, trying his best not to panic with anxiety clawing at his throat. 

He literally jumped when another door on the far side of the room swung open. A prison guard sauntered through, holding a clipboard in her hands. She gave him a funny look at his reaction, then rolled her eyes and returned them to her paper. 

“Anthony?” She asked in a bored tone, shutting the door behind her. 

Angel didn’t respond, instead staring down at his chained hands. He wasn’t particularly shy, but he was certainly feeling intimidated in the current situation. 

“Well? Is that your name or not?” The guard pressed, already losing her temper. 

“Yeah,” Angel answered quietly, not lifting his gaze from the floor. 

“Right,” she replied, marking something down in her clipboard. “Okay, strip so I can search you.” 

Angel hesitated, this was all starting to feel too real. He wasn’t a criminal! If only everyone else could see the truth. Tears stung at his eyes as he reached to pull his jacket from his shoulders. He lifted his shirt over his head and stepped out of his skirt, timidly facing back towards the guard. She set her clipboard down on the bench and approached him, lifting his clothes from the ground and rifling through them. Angel winced when she pulled a small pouch of phencyclidine from one of his pockets. She gave him a scowl and shook his clothes out violently onto the floor. A few pieces of candy, stray condemns, and bullets from shooting practice clanked loudly against the concrete. Angel swallowed thickly. This all was certainly not helping his plead to innocence. 

The guard collected the items into a sealed plastic bag and called for someone on her radio, turning to Angel with a look of absolute disgust. Even though he knew she only looked at him that way because she thought he was a responsible for a murder he didn’t commit, he couldn’t help whimpering in shame. His tears were threatening to spill over, but he really didn’t want to cry, especially so soon after getting here. There would be time for being pathetic later, when he was locked behind bars in the privacy of his cell. 

He was instructed to hold his arms out as the guard patted him down. He held his breath the entire time she was touching him. As she was waving her metal detector around, the door opened again and another guard with long blonde hair walked in, holding an orange jumpsuit and sneakers in her arms. The sight made Angel’s stomach drop uncomfortably. 

“Hey Vaggie! Here’s the uniform for our newest inmate!” She announced brightly, a big smile adorned on her face. 

Angel was slightly taken aback by her energetic personality, she wasn’t at all how he would expect a prison guard to act. 

“Hello! I’m Charlie, and this is Vaggie,” she gestured to the grumpy woman still patting him down, “And you must be Anthony! Welcome to Hazbin Penitentiary! You’re gonna love it here!” She beamed. For some reason Angel seriously doubted he would love anything about this place. 

The other guard, who he now knew was named Vaggie, paused her ministrations to glance towards Charlie. “Babe, I know you’re excited about working here, but please, you can’t be friendly with the inmates. It’s unprofessional. This guy is a murderer. He’d shank you the first chance he got if you let him get close enough.” 

Angel cowered at her words. She really believed he was evil, didn’t she? 

Charlie seemed to take notice of Angel’s discomfort and took Vaggie’s hands in her own. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’ll work on being more professional,” she paused, her smile growing subtly wider, “In fact, you’ve had a long day, if you’re done searching this inmate here, why don’t you let me show him around?” 

Vaggie shot a worried glance in Angel’s direction before sighing and nodding her head. “Fine,” she agreed, “just be careful, and _follow protocol._ ”

With that she turned to exit the room, leaving Charlie and Angel alone. 

As soon as she was gone, Charlie turned to him, a sympathetic expression on her face. “Sorry about her, she can be kind of strict.” 

Angel nodded quietly but otherwise didn’t move. 

“I won’t hurt you,” Charlie stated cautiously, “I know prison must be hard,” she reached out for him slightly, then thought better of it and let her hand fall. “But it’s not all bad here,” she continued, “We have a nice gym, a library, a television room, a computer lab, a courtyard, and you even get ice cream for dessert on Sundays!” She exclaimed excitedly, as if prison were a five star hotel. 

“Here,” she said, offering the orange jumpsuit she was still holding in her arms out to him. 

Angel grabbed it hesitantly and held it out in front of him. It looked like his size, but somehow that made the fact that he had to wear it even worse. He couldn’t help but feel as though the moment he put it on would be the moment this nightmare really came to life, the moment he became a real prisoner. 

Charlie walked forward and unlocked his handcuffs with a key, then stepped back to let him change.

With shaky hands Angel unzipped the front of the jumpsuit, extending a leg so he could step into it. He cringed as he pulled the coarse fabric over his shoulders, letting out a quiet sob as the cold zipper pulled closed against his chest. He couldn’t contain them anymore, hot tears rolled down his cheeks, falling onto his new uniform and darkening the sickening orange color. 

Charlie’s eyes widened in surprise, and she didn’t think twice before racing over to him and enveloping him in her arms. She stroked his hair soothingly and whispered softly into his ear. 

“It’ll be alright,” she cooed, but it wouldn’t. It could never be alright. 

“I know Anthony, I know,” she mumbled, as if she were a mother comforting her young child instead of a prison guard comforting an alleged murderer.

“It’s Angel,” he choked out quietly through his tears. 

“What?” Charlie asked, pulling away with a concerned look. 

“I prefer to be called Angel,” he repeated. 

Charlie gave him a look full of pity and a smile full of sorrow. “I’m sorry Angel,” she whispered. 

They simply stood there for what could have been hours, with Angel just sobbing into her shoulder. She didn’t complain once, even rubbing comforting circles onto his back. It was Angel who finally pulled away, wiping his eyes on his jumpsuit sleeve and sniffling to clear his nose. He couldn’t look at her, he was too embarrassed by how pathetic he was acting. So instead he just stared at his feet, which were bare against the cold floor. 

Charlie must have noticed this, since she exclaimed “Oh!” and turned around to pick up a pair of white sneakers that were sitting on the bench. “These are for you,” she said, handing him a pair of black socks as well. 

Angel muttered a “Thanks” and sat on the bench to put them on. When he looked back up, Charlie was opening one of the lockers along the wall with a small key. She picked up the bag of items Vaggie had shaken out of his clothes and placed them inside before turning the lock again. She then pulled a marker from her pocket and wrote Angel’s name across the front of it.

When she was done she turned back to face him, a big smile back on her face. “Well, if you’re all ready, I’ll show you to your new, uhm,” she paused, “living quarters!” 

Angel frowned slightly but nodded his head. Charlie nodded back in response. She opened the door from which she had come, gesturing him to follow her out. Before he could, however, Charlie held out her arm to block him from leaving. 

“Oops! I almost forgot,” she laughed, pulling out his handcuffs from her pocket. She refastened them to his wrists, making sure not to make them too tight. “There we go!” She beamed, removing her arm so he could leave the room. 

They stepped out into a large room that looked like it was comprised of office cubicles. On either side of the walkway there were large panes of glass separating inmates passing through from the people working at their desks. At the end of the hallway was another large, metal set of doors. 

Charlie led him straight down the passage, waving to a few of the other guards who were glancing over from the other side of the glass. Some of them gave Angel dirty looks, some of them didn’t pay him any mind at all. He wasn’t sure which reaction made him feel worse.

When they reached the doors, Charlie unclipped a security card from her belt and inserted it into a reader on the wall. It was then that Angel realized she was also carrying a police baton, a taser, and a shotgun. He couldn’t help but feel nervous by the prospect of every guard in the prison having similar weapons, and with him unable to defend himself. 

The doors swung open and led to an even larger room, the floor and walls all made of concrete. On both sides of the space were lines of inmate cells, stacked three stories high. In the center were tables and chairs, with various inmates scattered about. 

“It’s free time right now, so a lot of the prisoners are outside of their cells,” Charlie explained, “There’s a schedule in yours to help you get used to the daily routine.”

Angel didn’t respond, he was too busy staring out at all the intimidating individuals he would be spending the rest of his life with. Their appearances varied greatly, with some of them sporting wild hairstyles. Some had full body tattoos. Some of them even looked close to normal. They all shared one thing in common though: they had all done wicked, evil things to end up where they were today, and all of them were staring over at Angel Dust as if he were a premium cut of fresh meat in a butcher shop. 

“This way!” Charlie exclaimed, steering him away from the crowd and leading him up a flight of stairs to the right. They went all the way to the third floor, where Charlie paused for a moment to check a paper she had in her pocket. 

She pulled him to the left side of the isle, and they started walking down the passageway. All of the cells were numbered, and Angel could see some inmates still inside of them. Some were sleeping, some were reading or writing. He even saw a few people going at it right in the open, and quickly averted his gaze. 

They finally stopped at cell 314, and Charlie turned to him with a big grin. “This is your cell,” she informed. “I’ll let you settle in. Dinner is at five, there’s a clock in your room to help make sure you arrive to activities on time.” 

She pulled another key out of her pocket to remove his handcuffs once more. “You be good now,” she said, giving him a bright smile.

She paused for a moment and gently put her hand to Angel’s face, guiding his head so that she could look into his eyes. “It was nice to meet you, Angel. I know you’ll do just fine.” 

He gave her a weak smile as she turned to walk away. 

“See you around!” She called out before disappearing back down the stairs. 

Angel let out a shaky breath and peered into his cell. It was thankfully empty, but he could tell he had a roommate by the fact there were two beds in the room. There was also a desk on the far wall, and a toilet, sink, and mirror to the right. 

He approached the mattress that had a pile of sheets folded neatly on top of it. He sat down on the edge and opted to just stare at the opposite wall in silence. 

He could feel tears well up again in his eyes, and soon enough they were spilling over onto his cheeks. He thought of what had led him to this moment: alone, helpless, and hated by the world. He may as well have actually murdered someone. At least then he would deserve the sentence he was faced with.

He thought of his pet pig, Fat Nuggets, who was completely alone back at his apartment, probably wondering why Angel had abandoned him. He thought of his brother, who was probably happy to prove to everyone once and for all what a disappointment Angel really was. Maybe then their father would love him. Maybe then he’d see that _one_ of his sons wasn’t a complete failure. He thought of his friends, who had all probably shunned him already for the monster the media painted him out to be. He thought of his twin sister, the only one in his family who had ever shown him love, crying into her pillow, so horrified by the person her brother had become. 

The sound of someone humming cheerily brought him out of his thoughts, and he stared numbly towards the opening of his cell where a person now stood. 

“Why hello, my dear! You must be my new roommate. It’s so wonderful to meet you!” The figure spoke, walking completely into the light of the room. 

Angel nearly jumped in horror upon seeing their face. 

“You!” He cried out, backing away slowly as if to not provoke a wild animal. 

The man tilted his head in mock confusion, the smile on his face completely menacing. “Me?” He asked. 

“Don’t come near me. I know what you’ve done, you’re the reason I’m in here!” Angel squeaked. 

“Now now, you’re not being very polite, come over here and introduce yourself!” The man replied, ignoring the other’s accusations. “Let me shake your hand.” 

Angel shook his head and stood his ground, not venturing any closer. 

The figure clicked his tongue in disappointment and walked over to him with a few strides of his long legs, settling in so close that Angel could feel the other’s breath on his face.

“Angel, is it?” His new roommate asked, a flash of something sinister dancing in his eyes. “My name is Alastor.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just wanted to say really quickly, that i apologize for how long it took me to write this chapter. i've had it planned out for literal weeks, but i didn't really feel like writing it. from now on i will make more of an effort to update consistently.
> 
> also, i would like to state that i'm not an expert by any means on the justice system (specifically in america) and prisons. i don't _really_ know how all that stuff works, so you can expect some things to be incorrect. i would take the time to conduct proper research on the topic, but i'm too busy watching netflix. hope you can understand.

Angel was narrowly able to escape the uncomfortable encounter in his cell in time for dinner. Frankly, he had no clue how he was supposed to wake up to that evil man's face every day for the rest of his life. He didn't even know how he would wake up at all, surely he would be too terrified to ever fall asleep within a hundred feet of him. He could still feel the other's eyes focused on him as he descended the stairs towards the dining hall. At least he was keeping his distance.

As he drew nearer, Angel could see that the area was already filled with other inmates. Many of them were seated at tables, talking to each other or just minding their own business. The way they seemed to be grouped into cliques reminded him somewhat of a high school cafeteria from a shitty teenage romcom. When he stepped into the room every head turned in his direction. The atmosphere in the area was suddenly suffocating. Angel was used to being stared at, but never like this. He could tell these people wanted to skin him alive. 

"Another newbie?" Someone called from the right side of the room. 

"Ha, I bet this one won't last a week," a tall, muscled man with face tattoos snickered as he observed Angel's small figure. "He looks too fragile, like a woman."

Angel could feel the back of his neck growing hot. Part of him wanted to lash out at the man, but he also knew he could never defeat him without a weapon.

"Why don't you go play dress up with your high heels and makeup, faggot," the man jeered again.

Angel's hands clenched into fists.

"Now, now, you say he looks like a woman, but that's no way to speak to a lady," a voice calmly spoke from the dining hall's entrance. 

Angel whipped around quickly in surprise, to see Alastor standing, again, not inches from his face. His eyes widened and he immediately stumbled backwards, right into another inmate, who smiled sadistically down at him. "Why, aren't you just adorable," he cooed, grabbing Angel's arm to pull him into his chest. The inmate nestled his face in the blonde's hair and breathed in deeply. Angel froze up, absolutely terrified for his life, and more than a little creeped out.

"Unhand him at once," Alastor scolded the man from across the room. Angel was released immediately. He cautiously backed away and stared towards Alastor, unsure of what to do. Why was this psychopath being so nice to him? Surely there was a reason, murders are never just nice without a reason. 

"Angel, dear, would you care to join me for dinner?" Alastor smiled, tilting his head ever so slightly. 

"No!" Angel blurted out, face reddening a bit in embarrassment before adding a mumbled "Thanks." 

"Very well then, I do hope you enjoy your meal." 

And with that Alastor walked away, leaving Angel and every other inmate staring after him. The room was silent now, everyone seemingly frozen in place until Alastor had settled himself at an empty table on the far side of the vicinity. Angel looked back towards him nervously. No one was glaring at him anymore, but what was he supposed to do now? There were no other vacant tables, and there was no way he would ever bring himself to sit with Alastor. 

"Hey, you!" Someone called from a nearby table. Angel turned his head to see the person who had called out to him.

"Over here!" They beckoned in a friendly manner for him to come closer.

Hesitantly, Angel walked towards the table, where two people sat across from each other. There were some others sitting on the far end, but they didn't glance up as Angel approached. 

"You're new, aren't you?" One of them asked, the one who had called him over. He extended his hand for Angel to shake. 

"I'm Vox, and you are..?" He asked. 

"I'm Angel Dust," the blonde replied, taking a seat next to the other man when he gestured for him to do so.

"Like the drug?" Vox asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"Uh, yeah, but you can just call me Angel, if you want," he said, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. 

"Well, you sure look like an Angel," the other man who had been sitting with Vox prior to Angel's arrival grinned, holding out his hand to shake as well. For some reason he was wearing pink, heart-shaped glasses, despite being in a prison.

"I'm Valentino, by the way. But you can call me anything you'd like," he grinned, holding onto the other's hand a little too long for comfort. Angel couldn't stop himself from shuddering ever so slightly.

"So what are you in for?" Vox asked, feigning interest in the topic. 

Angel hesitated before answering, "Murder, but it's a bit complicated." 

Valentino laughed. "It's always a bit complicated." 

Angel nodded solemnly. "What about you two?" He asked, letting his head fall onto his hand. 

"Oh ya know, federal security breaching, stealing classified information, identity and bank theft, I've done it all really. I'm pretty good with technology," Vox replied in a bored tone, counting off his offenses on each finger. Angel stared at him numbly. In all honesty, it was kind of impressive. 

"And you?" He asked, turning towards Valentino. 

"I ran a prostitution ring and was pretty involved in the illegal drug scene," the other drawled, seemingly nonchalant. "Probably killed at least fifty people. Kinda lost track at this point." 

Angel just stared at the man in horror, unable to believe anyone could do such a thing. Was that who he would have become if he hadn't been arrested? If he had carried out his father's wishes to become a mafia member? A part of him was sort of relieved he had been locked away before he could be twisted into that.

"So you were caught on your first offense? Now that's just bad luck," Vox chuckled, making Angel flush. 

"Uhm, no, I didn't actually do it. I was framed." 

Now both of them were laughing at him. 

"Right! You were just framed. Of course you were!" Valentino jeered sarcastically. 

"It's true! You see that man over there?" Angel cried, pointing in the direction of Alastor. "He's the one who really did it!"

Both turned towards the man who was being pointed at. Vox sighed dramatically. "Right, not the first time we've heard that one."

"What? But it's true!" Angel frowned, starting to feel a bit frustrated. 

"Wow, are you really that clueless or are you just playing dumb?"

"Of course not! What are you talking about?" He demanded, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. 

"He's the Radio Host Killer. Pretty famous, actually. He's murdered dozens of people all over Louisiana. Everyone was pretty surprised when he showed up here, all the way in New York. I wouldn't mess with him, he's probably the most likely one here to kill you," Valentino explained, looking over at Alastor with something akin to admiration. "He's kind of a legend in the crime world." 

Vox scoffed in disgust. “Oh please, he’s not _that_ impressive. People only like him for his charms. He’s pretty overrated if you ask me.”

Angel paled intensely. He knew this guy was bad, but not _that_ bad. "He's my roommate," he squeaked. 

Valentino and Vox looked at him with stony faces, but he could tell they were at least slightly amused. "Yikes, good luck with that buddy." 

The rest of dinner went smoothly, and once the inmates had all gotten their food there wasn't much conversation. Vox and Valentino were friendly enough, and even surprised Angel with how civil they were. He would never be so rude as to admit it, but he had kind of expected them to be mindless sociopaths. Thankfully, that was not the case. 

While everyone was starting to clean up and return to their cells, a guard approached the table where Angel and his new acquaintances still sat. She wore her hair in pigtails, dyed pink and black, and her uniform was decorated with ribbons of various colors. Her eyes held an almost manic glint in them, as if she should be the one in the orange jumpsuit, and Angel the one in the bedazzled prison guard attire. 

"Heyyy guys," she greeted Vox and Valentino, initiating some sort of secret handshake with the two. "I see you've already made friends with the new inmate. A naughty one, this one is," she smiled menacingly at the blonde, who felt shivers run up his spine. 

"Leave him alone Velvet," Valentino rolled his eyes, all but shoving her out his way as he stood up. Angel was surprised by how hostile he was acting towards her, as if she wasn't in a position of authority over him. 

"Aw, I'm just being friendly," she pouted, lightly swatting at his arm. 

Vox let out an annoyed huff and followed Valentino out of the room, leaving Angel once again surrounded by strangers. He felt himself grow uneasy looking at Velvet's expression. 

"Hmm, yep, just as I thought. You're adorable! I'm sure Val is gonna eat you right up!" She giggled, inspecting him from every angle. 

"H-huh?" Angel stammered, feeling a bit rattled by her words. 

"Oh, nothing," she smiled brightly, waving her hands in dismissal. "What's your name?" 

"Angel," he replied, subconsciously leaning away from her. 

"Just kidding! I already knew that!" She giggled again, as if it were the funniest thing she had ever heard.

"Right," Angel replied uncomfortably, suddenly wishing he were back in his cell. Something about this girl really didn't sit well with him. 

"I heard you're rooming with Mr.Psycho-sociopath-evil-cannibal-murder-man," Velvet grinned, leaning farther in towards the blonde. "That must be a lot of fun."

"Uh, I, well no, I haven't really-" he fumbled, truly stricken speechless before another guard interrupted him from the other side of the room. 

"Velvet, dear, please get back to work," the voice called, though not much authority was held behind it. 

Said guard rolled her eyes before taking one more hard look at Angel Dust. "Well, you heard the boss man. Better get going!" And with that she hurried away.

Alastor didn't return to the cell by curfew, and the doors that locked the inmates in closed without him inside. Part of Angel couldn't help but wonder what had happened to him, but the other part of him really didn't care, he was just glad he didn't have to see the condescending madman. With the absence of Alastor, maybe he could finally get some rest. 

Sleep didn't come easily to Angel, as one would expect from someone newly introduced to the prison lifestyle. He spent the night tossing and turning, plagued with nightmares and restlessness. He normally didn't dream at all, but for some reason this time was an exception. 

He was running through a forest, completely shrouded in darkness. The trees towered like giants above him, branches curling sinisterly at the ends. They reminded him of Alastor's smile. He could hear noises all around him, but couldn't tell if they were from his panicked running or if they were from the person chasing him. It was hard to tell where he was or which direction he was going, the entire scene smearing into a hazy, dreamy blur. His lungs burned from running so hard and for so long. 

He could smell the scent of blood before the shot was fired, lodging itself deeply into his left hind leg. It was then he realized he was no longer human, but some sort of animal, frantically running from the predator he could sense not far behind. The pain was searing, almost real, and he collapsed to the ground with a whimper. Through his labored breathing came the sound of footsteps, hurrying towards him accompanied by the clanking of metal. He forced himself to stand and scamper away, limping now at a considerably slower pace. 

His antlers hung heavy on his head, becoming increasingly hard to support. His hooves connected heavily with the forest floor, sending a throbbing sensation through his entire body with every step he took. He was slowing down, but the person behind him was only speeding up. Another bullet narrowly missed his head, skimming his ear and hitting a tree to the right of him. He could hear every leaf as they fell from the surrounding trees, every twig as they snapped underneath him, every mutter from the person chasing him as they inevitably caught up.

"There's no use, little deer, I'm going to catch you no matter how hard you run." 

Through the heavy darkness Angel could see a river, roaring wildly as it splashed against jagged rocks and crashed against the riverbed. He started to panic, now he was completely cornered. There was no way he could survive if he fell in, and he didn't think he could jump across with a wounded leg. But he had to try. With the last of his strength he sprinted towards the river, leaping out into the cold midnight air. 

He didn't make it across. With a deafening smack against the rushing stream Angel fell, now at the mercy of the rowdy current. Water filled his already tired lungs, turning to acid that burned as it spread through his entire body. Rocks pierced into his back and the sides of his stomach, ripping him to shreds and leaving behind a streak of red to be carried along with the river. The last thing he saw was a pair of glowing red eyes staring down at him as the life left his own. 

Angel woke up thrashing and screaming, drenched in a cold sweat. He could hear other inmates shouting at him to be quiet, but didn't really care. He was shaking, absolutely terrified by the dream he had just woken up from. Never in his life had he felt something so incredibly intense, so jarring that it almost felt real. He willed himself to calm down, taking deep breathes and thinking of his twin sister, Molly, who had always helped him through his panic attacks. It made him feel better, until he remembered how he would never be able to feel her comfort again. 

He was coming back to reality now, slowly ceasing his tremors and calming his wildly beating heart. He finally glanced up, meeting his own eyes in the mirror which was situated opposite to his bed. His eyes flicked up and he felt his terror rush back full force, seeing the figure of Alastor standing properly behind him, eyes glowing a sinister red. Angel whipped around quickly, but was met with simply air. There was no one there. When he looked back towards the mirror the silhouette was gone, leaving an unsettling presence in its wake.

Maybe Angel was already going crazy. One day in prison and it had already driven him mad. His head throbbed and he suddenly felt nauseous. Perhaps it was just symptoms of withdrawal, and that's what was causing him to have nightmares and disturbing hallucinations. 

_Snap out of it!_

He pinched himself softly and shook his head to clear the fog that had settled over his mind. His headache was killing him, but he knew the only way to make it through was to sleep it off. He really had no other option. So with that, he closed his eyes once again, missing the figure which had reappeared in the corner of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was shorter than the last one, but like i said it was kind of hard for me to write. it's not my best, but hopefully it was entertaining enough. i'm really just trying to introduce the roles that all the characters play in the story before anything really crazy happens. i'd also like to know how people would feel if i decided to occasionally switch the point of view to follow a different character (only if the situation suits it). 
> 
> questions, comments, concerns? let me know!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so like,,,,, i said i would update more consistently but then i blinked and it was a month later so, ummmmmm 
> 
> here, take this bullshit excuse and pretend that it’s valid  
> *holds out hand cutely*
> 
> also, i made cherri transgender in this story, because i believe it would make sense in context. I know (am pretty sure) that she isn’t trans canonically. Hope that doesn’t make anyone upset (though why would it idk???)

Angel didn’t have much luck sleeping the rest of the night. His mind kept wandering to those red, glowing eyes. As he sat up in bed, his head throbbed numbly. He could already tell that these next few days would be absolute hell. He’d only been off his PCP once since he started taking it, and he’d not been able to function for a week straight. 

He looked around his cell, his brain feeling woozy from the motion of turning his head. He couldn’t see Alastor anywhere, which was a relief, but also confusing. Where had the man been all of last night? Thinking about it hurt too much, so Angel just dropped the train of thought. 

There was a loud squeaking noise like a broken radio, and the blonde winced, quickly covering his ears. A voice came on over the loud speaker, announcing that it was time for the inmates to wake up. Angel couldn’t tell, but he was pretty sure it was still dark outside. Curses rang out from the cells surrounding his, the chatter a bit too loud for his aching head. This was going to be a long day. 

When he walked into the dining hall for breakfast, none of the inmates gave him any trouble. Some of them glanced at him quickly, but didn’t let their eyes linger for too long; it was almost as if they were afraid of him. He wondered if it had anything to do with Alastor, didn’t care enough to think on it for too long. 

He surveyed the room, noticing Vox and Valentino sitting in the same place they had been the previous night. Angel shrugged. They were nice enough to him earlier, so he was pretty sure they weren’t going to try to kill him by now. He walked over to them slowly, trying his best to keep his balance. 

The two inmates gave him an odd look when he slumped down beside Valentino. 

“The fuck happened to you?” Val asked him, peering over his pink-tinted glasses. 

“Withdrawal,” Angel sighed, massaging his temples with his index fingers. 

Vox let out an amused laugh. “Damn, that really sucks buddy. Can’t do much about it in here though.” 

Angel just groaned, hoping to all hell that the day would pass quickly and painlessly. 

After breakfast, the guards lined up in the front of the room to announce where the inmates would be working for the next month. They were reminded that all prison jobs were _mandatory_ , and began listing off names. Angel was having a hard time focusing. He tried to concentrate on what they were saying, but it just made his head throb in protest. When the jobs were done being announced, everyone was quickly ushered out of the dining hall to get to work. 

Angel stumbled over himself, trying not to get knocked over in the crowd of much-larger inmates. He grabbed the sleeve of Valentino’s orange jumpsuit, tugging on it weakly to get his attention. The man whipped around to glare at him with an annoyed look on his face. 

“What?” He snapped impatiently, shaking out of Angel’s hold. 

“Uh, do you remember where the guards said I was stationed?” The blonde asked, slightly embarrassed that he couldn’t even pay attention for a few minutes with the throbbing in his skull. 

Valentino sneered. “How the fuck should I know? I’m not your damn babysitter. Figure it out,” he rolled his eyes before stomping away. 

Angel frowned, instead looking around for Vox, but couldn’t find him anywhere in the crowd. So he just stood there absent-mindlessly as other inmates shoved past him, ignoring the many pissed-off looks being shot his way. 

It wasn’t until the hall was nearly empty that someone strolled up to him, their hands stuffed casually into their pockets. 

“Hey, you’re the new kid, right?” 

Angel looked up, his vision momentarily seeing double. He winced, taking a deep breath. The person standing before him was a girl with pink hair, tied up in a long ponytail. She stared at him with a relaxed expression, extending her hand for him to shake. Her fingernails where painted a hot magenta. 

“I’m Cherri,” she said, giving him a wide smile. Angel took her hand, trying his best to grin back. 

“I’m Angel Dust.” 

She nodded, taking notice of his uncomfortable expression, and immediately recognized his predicament. “Withdrawal?” She asked, frowning in sympathy. 

Angel nodded curtly, “yeah, but it’s not that bad, my head just hurts a bit.” 

Cherri rested her arm on his shoulder. “I know how you feel dude, I’ve been through it SO many times before,” she laughed. “Must suck even worse having to go through it in here though.” 

The blonde grunted to indicate his agreement, willing himself to focus on anything but his raging headache. 

“We should probably get to the kitchens,” Cherri said quietly as to not irritate his symptoms more. “We could get in trouble for being late.” 

“Kitchens?” Angel asked in confusion, completely lost. 

“We’re both supposed to work there this month. That’s why I came up to you. I know I would have really appreciated someone showing me the ropes when I was new around here,” she explained, grabbing Angel’s arm and starting to lead them down the hallway. 

“Oh, um, thanks,” he replied awkwardly. He wasn’t really expecting anyone to help him. 

Cherri turned out to be quite the natural conversationalist. Angel almost forgot about his headache completely as they walked to their destination. 

“You’ve probably already been asked this a ton of times, but what are you in for?” She asked, walking with a slight skip in her step. 

“Uhm, murder... but, and I know it sounds crazy, I didn’t actually do it,” Angel mumbled, feeling a bit foolish. No one ever took him seriously when he pleaded innocence. 

Cherri raised one of her eyebrows, but she didn’t laugh at him like Vox and Valentino had. “Well, if _you_ didn’t do it, then who did?”

The blonde let out a small cough before answering, “Uh, his name is Alastor...?” 

“Like, the radio guy?” She asked, tilting her head. 

“Yeah, I think that’s what everyone was calling him,” Angel replied quietly. 

Cherri nodded, “Well _that_ I could actually believe. That guy is ruthless! Do you have any evidence against him? Maybe you could get out, you never know.”

Angel shook his head, then instantly regretted it as his vision swerved for a moment. “No, unfortunately, the only witness had their head smashed in to pieces.” 

The girl shrugged her shoulders. “That’s too bad. But hey, maybe the police will uncover something that could help you, they are pretty good at that forensic bullshit.” 

“Yeah maybe,” Angel slouched his shoulders. “Or maybe they’ll find something that makes me look even worse.” 

“You have nothing to worry about if you’re innocent,” Cherri reassured him with a smile. 

“How about you?” Angel asked as they rounded a corner. “Why did you get sent here?” 

“Arson, bombs, nothing too impressive,” she shrugged nonchalantly. Everyone here was always so nonchalant about terrible crimes. 

“Wow,” Angel looked to the floor awkwardly. “Then I guess you’ve killed a lot of people too.” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t trying to though. I thought the building was empty. That’s why I got sent here, they thought I was some kind of terrorist.” 

“Oh.” 

Knowing Cherri didn’t mean to kill anyone on purpose made Angel feel a little better. 

“Look, I’m already locked up here for the foreseeable future, and my guilty conscience tortures me every second I spend in this goddamned place. I’d appreciate if you could just forget about it. I don’t need more people hating me than I already have,” she said, her voice serious. 

Angel was a bit surprised, but nodded in understanding. He knew a thing or two about guilt, enough to know anyone who suffered from it faced punishment enough. 

They continued for a few minutes in silence, drawing nearer to where they needed to be. When they could see the door down the hallway, a question suddenly popped into Angel’s head. 

“Um, I just noticed. You’re a girl, but this is a men’s prison? How is it you’re here not at a women’s facility?” 

Cherri blinked slowly at him. “I thought it was rather obvious. I’m transgender, but in the eyes of this country’s legal system I’m still the same sex I was born with.” She said that last part rather bitterly. 

“O-oh!” Angel widened his eyes, his face heating up in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry! I hope I didn’t offend you or anything!” 

Cherri punched his arm jokingly in reassurance. “Don’t worry about it, it takes a lot more than that to offend me.” 

When they finally reached the kitchens, a tall guard scolded them as they entered through the swinging double doors. 

“You’re late!” He announced. “And on your first day!” 

“Stolas, chill dude. No need to freak out,” Cherri hummed, sending the guard a lazy smirk. 

He frowned, but didn’t try to discipline them any more. Angel looked around. The area was pretty empty, save for a few more inmates and a vast amount of cooking equipment.

“So what are we cookin’ today?” Cherri asked, walking over to the sinks to wash her hands. Angel followed after her, a bit lost as to what was going on. 

“Jambalaya,” Stolas replied, leaning against the far wall as he observed the inmates to make sure they behaved. 

“How delightful!” A voice came from the other side of the room. Alastor stood in one of the corners, his smile gleaming through the shadows that were cast onto his face from the lighting. 

Angel felt dread seep deep into his bones. His head suddenly started throbbing even worse, and he had to double over the sink to keep from falling to the floor. Cherri’s eyes widened with concern and she quickly offered her shoulder for support.

“My mother was quite the accomplished cook. She taught me a thing or two about how to make a delicious dish,” Alastor pridefully recounted, paying no mind to Angel Dust whatsoever. 

“Pft, I’m sure she did,” another voice cut in. “I’m surprised they let you in here, given your... history with... odd cooking practices.” 

The blonde turned to see another, shorter man with a vitiligo spot covering one half of his face. He wore a grumpy expression, his arms folded crossly over his chest. It was quite obvious by looking at him that he didn’t want to be working where he was. 

“Blitzy!” Stolas did a horrible job of whispering to him, looking concerned. He began moving towards him until the man shot him a warning glare. 

“I’ll have you know that I always practice the greatest measures of sanitation in the kitchen, Blitzo,” Alastor replied calmly, ignoring the guard. His smile never faltered for an instant. 

“You know damn well that’s not what I meant,” the other inmate, Blitzo, mumbled, too quiet for Alastor to hear from the other side of the room. 

Before anything escalated, Stolas cut in to remind everyone to get to work. 

To Angel’s surprise, everything went for the most part smoothly. He chatted with Cherri and Blitzo, who he learned used to be in charge of a hitman service. He had almost forgotten completely about Alastor until he felt a presence appear behind him while he was measuring out the rice. 

“Angel,” the man’s voice whispered into his ear, causing him to jump slightly, sending rice scattering all over the counter. He quickly turned around to face the person he had grown to absolutely hate. 

Alastor still had that wide, toothy smile on his face. If anything, it grew even wider as he backed Angel up against the counter. The blonde looked around frantically, suddenly feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. Cherri and Blitzo where no longer in sight, and who knows where the hell Stolas had gone off to. 

“Did you miss me last night?” Alastor cooed, a condescending hint in his tone. 

“Of course not!” Angel replied, completely exasperated. He was beginning to panic, the throbbing in his head growing louder in his ears. He knotted his eyebrows. 

This clearly wasn’t the response that the other man wanted to hear, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly in annoyance. He leaned in closer, until the metal counter was digging into the back of Angel’s thighs. The blonde quickly turned his head to the right and tried to make a run for it, but Alastor slammed his hand down violently to block the way. Angel started to panic, turning to the left only to find he was boxed in on both sides by the wicked man’s extended arms. 

“You’re being rather rude,” Alastor said softly, pressing his body gently up against Angel’s. “Why are you trying to run? You know you won’t get anywhere.” He lifted a hand to caress the side of the blonde man’s face, who flinched in response, screwing his eyes shut tightly. His breathing came out in harsh, uneven huffs, his heart beating damn near out of his chest. He felt a pair of lips ghost lightly over his neck. 

“Angel,” Alastor said again, backing up so the other could no longer feel the heat of his body invading his personal space. “Open your eyes, Angel.” 

And he did. He opened his eyes to see the image of Alastor holding a kitchen knife right to his face, aimed at his left eyeball. He squeaked in terror, his lungs constricting to cut off his airflow. He was absolutely frozen in fear, staring numbly at the blade and the man behind it. 

The last thing he saw was Alastor’s calm, calculated face, still adorned with a smile, before he felt a sharp pain in his head. 

Everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooOOoOo a cliffhanger! i would write more but it’s 5 am and i’m literally about to pass out
> 
> tell me what you think so far! i have a general plan already but if you have any ideas i will listen very intently and seriously consider them i promise (:


	4. Chapter 4

Angel Dust woke up suddenly, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. His body felt heavy, and trying to move made his bones ache in protest. There was a sharp pain that seared white behind his eyes, but faded almost as soon as it had come. He squinted against the brightness of the room he was now in. He could see Fluorescent lights on the ceiling, concluding that he must be lying down. It smelt like a hospital. 

His brain was foggy, blood still thumping loudly in his ears. He couldn’t remember where he was, or how he had gotten there. He tried to sit up, but found that he couldn’t move his arms. Or his legs. Now he was starting to panic, tugging frantically against the restraints that kept him strapped down to whatever table he was mounted on. He could hear footsteps quickly approaching. His vision was blocked by the silhouette of a figure leaning over him. 

“Are you awake?” They asked, rather stupidly, since it was quite obvious that he was. 

Angel couldn’t find the strength to push words from his throat. Instead he just grunted in acknowledgment. Everything hurt. 

“Oh, okay,” the person paused, as if unsure of what they were supposed to say next. “If I remove your restraints, do you promise that you won’t attack me?” 

That seemed like a pointless question to ask. Angel was pretty sure that despite his motives he would definitely agree either way. He nodded his head weakly. 

The cuffs on his wrists were loosened, enough so that he could slip his wrists out of their confines. He sat up as whoever was in the room with him turned to undo his ankles. He relaxed a bit, seeing that they weren’t Alastor. 

He looked around. He seemed to be in some sort of doctor’s office, judging by the medical supplies that were somewhat messily strewn about the place. 

“Um, could you tell me where I am?” He asked quietly, turning to the person he could now identify as a rather young woman, dressed in a nurse’s uniform. 

“You’re in the infirmary,” she answered, looking at him rather warily. Angel furrowed his brows in confusion. 

“Okay... why?” 

The nurse crossed the room towards a medicine cabinet, keeping her front turned to him the entire time. “You passed out in the kitchens. Likely due to a panic attack.” 

Angel nodded, it was starting to come back to him now. He could still feel Alastor’s presence lingering with him. 

The woman rummaged through the large quantity of bottles on the shelf, causing the room to be filled with the sound of rattling pills. The familiar noise made Angel’s shoulders lose just the tiniest bit of tension. It reminded him of home. 

“You’re likely experiencing heavy hallucinations,” the nurse said, turning back to face him when she had found the bottle she was looking for. 

“Oh, right. So that was just a hallucination?” Angel asked, moving a hand up to massage his temples. 

“I don’t know what you’re referring to, but it likely was. It’s quite common for inmates to go through withdrawal symptoms when they first arrive here,” she said, shaking out two pills onto her palm. She then carefully extended her arm towards Angel. He gave her an odd look. 

“Painkillers. For your headache. Won’t do much to stop the hallucinations though,” the nurse explained. 

He nodded, accepting the cup of water she handed to him as well. He downed the pills and handed the glass back to her. 

“I still have both my eyes, right?” He frowned at her, lifting a hand to his face. She tilted her head at him, an unwary expression tugging at her features. 

“Yeah...” she returned the bottle to the cupboard. “You’ll be administered two more pills at the beginning of breakfast and dinner for the next week. If your symptoms haven’t subsided by then, please inform one of the guards so we can run some extensive tests. You should be back to normal soon, though.” 

Angel blinked. So that entire encounter in the kitchens with Alastor, that must have been a hallucination. He felt kind of embarrassed that he had fainted right in front of everyone. 

“Okay,” he said numbly. “How long was I asleep?” 

“A few hours,” she replied, removing her gloves to exchange them for a new pair. 

“Can I go then?” Angel asked, eying the door on the left side of the room. 

“Yes, it’s leisure time now, so feel free to do whatever you would like. I’ll walk you out.” She held the door open for him and he slowly rose up and walked over on shaky legs. 

As he exited the room, he saw Cherri leaning against the wall, her gaze focused blankly on nothing in particular. Her head whipped around when she saw him emerge. 

“Angel!” She cried, looking rather worried. The nurse looked between them before disappearing back into the infirmary. 

“Hey,” Angel said, trying his best to smile. Cherri ran up to him and threw her arms around him, enveloping him into a tight hug that slightly irritated his sore muscles.

“I was so worried! I turned around for one minute and the next thing I know you’ve passed out on the floor!” She pulled away, trying to inspect him for injuries. 

“I-I’m fine,” he assured her, a bit taken aback by her frantic behavior. He didn’t really expect anyone to care that much. 

“If you say so, but you better tell me if you start feeling sick again,” she said, grasping his hand in her own and tugging him gently down the hallway. “We can do whatever we want until dinner time.” 

“Okay,” Angel shrugged. “What do you want to do then?” 

“I was thinking I could show you the library, since you probably would rather be somewhere quiet right now,” she told him, squeezing his palm ever so subtly, to let him know she knew what he was going through. (But did she really?)

“Cherri,” Angel mumbled quietly, looking up at her face. “Why are you being so nice to me?” 

She let out a small laugh. “Why wouldn’t I be nice to you? You haven’t pissed me off yet or anything.” 

“But you waited for who knows how long just for me to get out of the infirmary, even though I just met you. I don’t know many people who would do that for me. Even people I’ve known my entire life.” 

She stopped walking suddenly, raising an arm to awkwardly scratch behind her head. “Well, the truth is, I don’t have that many friends. I tend to scare people away... and making friends here is hard. I guess I just thought it might be easier if you had someone here you could rely on... easier for both of us.” 

Angel felt his heart swelling in his chest. He could tell that Cherri was being completely sincere, something he wasn’t very used to in his ordinary life. He made a promise to himself at that moment that he would always have her back. 

“Thanks, I really appreciate that.” 

She looked at his face, a genuine smile blooming onto her face. They continued their stroll towards the library. 

“So, do you like to read?” Angel asked, gripping her hand with a bit more confidence now. 

Cherri shrugged her shoulders. “Eh.” 

Before he could formulate a response, there was a loud clanking noise that rang down the empty hallway. Angel jumped, whipping his head around in an effort to find the source. 

“There,” Cherri whispered, pointing to a door labeled ‘Janitor’s Closet’. 

The two of them crept closer, unsure of what they would find. Angel had a feeling that they might be about to stumble across something they shouldn’t see. Cherri grasped the doorknob carefully, slowly turning it to the right. The two jumped out of the way when someone fell out into the hall, his jumpsuit pulled down to his ankles. 

“God dammit!” He cursed, pushing himself up off the floor. He quickly zipped his clothes back up. 

“Blitzo?” Cherri stared at him blankly. 

Another person yelped from inside the closet, scurrying to readjust their blue guard uniform. 

“Stolas!?” 

Angel’s eyes widened in surprise. Cherri looked like her jaw was about to fall to the floor. They numbly looked at the other two, in complete disbelief. 

“Were you two-” Cherri started to say, but Stolas promptly cut her off. 

“No! No, we were just, uh, talking! In the closet... like, people do..” 

Blitzo let out a scoff. “Oh shut the hell up birdbrain!” He turned to look at the stunned inmates who were still frozen in shock. “If you tell anyone about this I’ll strangle both of you while you sleep.” 

Cherri raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “I might need a bit more incentive to keep my mouth shut.” 

Stolas emerged from the closet, looking completely embarrassed that he’d just been caught in such a compromising position. Blitzo glared daggers at him. “This is all your fault! You deal with it!” He turned and stomped down the hallway. 

Stolas laughed nervously. “I’m head of security, so I can get all the guards to treat you nicer?” He offered, a hopeful look on his face. Cherri just shrugged. 

“Works for me. And make sure Angel gets the same treatment too.” 

Stolas nodded and hurried away down the hallway after the man who had just stormed out. “Blitzy!” He cried, before disappearing around the corner. 

“Wow,” Angel said, facing Cherri with a numb expression. 

Cherri laughed. “Not the first time an inmate’s been hooking up with a guard.” She turned to continue walking in the direction of the library. Angel hurried quickly behind her. 

When they reached the door labeled ‘Library’, Cherri held it open for Angel to enter. It seemed rather deserted, which he was quite thankful for. The painkillers had stopped his headache for the most part, but he really just wanted to get away from everything for a bit. 

“Let’s go sit over there,” Cherri said, gesturing to a table where one other person sat with their face buried in a book. As they approached, the stranger didn’t even look up. 

“Hey Moxxie,” Cherri whispered to the inmate, sitting down in the chair next to him. Angel sat quietly on the opposite side. 

“Oh,” Moxxie tore his eyes away from his book, seemingly a bit annoyed to have been interrupted. “Do you need something?” 

Cherri waggled her eyebrows and smirked. “Guess who we just caught hooking up with Stolas in the janitor’s closet?” 

He gave a dramatic sigh. “Don’t tell me...” 

“Yep! Your old boss!” 

He let out a groan, setting his book aside to let his face fall into his hands. “Even in prison I can’t escape him,” he said miserably. 

“C’mon, he’s not _that_ bad. He’s even kind of fun sometimes when he’s not being a bitch,” Cherri laughed, shoving Moxxie’s shoulder playfully. 

“But he is that bad! You didn’t have to put up with him for years on end!” He cried, earning a harsh ‘SHHHH!!’ from another inmate nearby. 

“Heh, and you’re still stuck with him here too!” She cackled. Moxxie’s mouth drew into a tight line. 

“This is Angel, by the way,” Cherri said, gesturing to the blonde man who had been completely silent throughout the entire exchange. 

“Hello,” he said awkwardly, extending a hand, which the other man shook firmly. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Moxxie.” 

“You used to work for Blitzo?” Angel asked, trying to be polite. Moxxie nodded solemnly. 

“Yes, it was rather taxing. He was always blaming me for everything! Even when we got caught and thrown in jail!! Even though I wasn’t the one who owned the damned company!!!” He exclaimed. It was obvious he was rather resentful towards his former boss. 

“Oh, that must have been rough...” 

“I just want to see my wife again. If only we hadn’t been so damn reckless,” Moxxie sighed, frowning down at the table. 

Angel didn’t know what to say, so he just looked over to Cherri. She shrugged and stood up. “Want me to get you something to read?” She asked. Angel nodded his head. 

“Okay, what genre?” 

He thought for a moment, “Um, I like romance.” 

She laughed, “Of course you do.” 

She returned with a rather beaten copy of ‘The Notebook’. “Here, is this lovey-dovey enough for you?” 

Angel thanked her and accepted the book. His head still throbbed a bit too much to focus on the words, but he didn’t really mind. 

The library was quiet, a peacefulness that he had really missed over the past few days. Cherri settled down with her own book, to which she made animated facial expressions every so often, making Angel giggle slightly in amusement. For the first time since his arrival, he felt like not all hope was lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow! another update so soon?? who’s ever heard of such a thing!!
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this chapter! there will be more alastor in the next one, and i can assure that it will get messy veryyy quickly. poor angel dust, things are about to get a lot worse for him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just spent a fucking hour writing part of this chapter just to accidentally delete the entire thing HAHAHAHAHAHA love that so much
> 
> well guess i have to rewrite it now (':

Alastor wasn't at dinner that night either. Angel was beginning to wonder whether the man ever ate at all. He didn't dwell on it for long though, since he could see Vox beckoning him over from where they usually sat. He looked annoyed. Cherri followed close behind, inviting herself to the group. She grimaced as they approached, noticing Valentino. 

"Ugh! Why don't you ever listen to me!" Val was complaining to Vox, leaning across the table. 

"Oh yeah, because you _definitely_ listen to ME!" The man countered, crossing his arms stubbornly. 

"Oh my fucking god! I cannot believe you always do this!!" Valentino was fuming, practically shaking with anger. 

"Um, are you guys alright?" Angel asked awkwardly as he sat down on the bench. Cherri settled in next to him.

"Everything's fine. Val is just being a little bitch, that's all," Vox huffed, turning away. 

"Me? ME?? Are you fucking kidding right now?!" 

Angel winced at how loud the two were yelling. His head was still slightly aching from earlier, and the noise really wasn't helping. 

"How do you even put up with these guys?" Cherri asked, rolling her eyes. 

"They aren't usually like this, I don't know what's going on..." He answered, trying his best to be heard over all the commotion. 

"Um, no. Actually, they're like this every other day," she informed him, frowning slightly. 

"Oh." 

"Would you two shut the hell up?!" An angry voice came from the other side of the table. 

Angel pointed to himself in confusion. “Us?”

"No, not you! Them!" He gestured to the two other people they were sitting by. 

Vox and Valentino paid no attention to the inmate's complaints, continuing their bickering at a volume even louder than before. The man groaned and let his head fall into his hands, muttering to himself in frustration. Cherri smirked and grabbed the sleeve of Angel's jumpsuit, pulling him along the bench until they were in front of the man. 

"Mind if we sit here instead? Their bickering is really getting to us," Cherri smiled at him. 

"I would rather you didn't," he replied sourly, looking up at her with a scowl. 

"Oh c'mon! I'm Cherri, and this is Angel. And you are?" 

The inmate furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance but still replied "Husk." 

"Cool! Nice to meet you. I think we are a lot better off hanging with you than with those two," she gestured back to Vox and Valentino. 

He rolled his eyes. "Hanging? If you want to 'hang' with someone why don't you go tie a noose around your neck."

"This guy!" Cherri laughed, leaning onto Angel's shoulder. He looked at Husk warily. 

"Um, sorry if we're bothering you," he muttered quietly. 

"You are. Just fuck off and leave me alone. I'm already in a bad mood," Husk grumbled.

“Why’s that?” Cherri asked, swinging her feet underneath the table. 

“You’re either deaf or you can’t hear those two airing their relationship drama in the middle of the dining hall at full volume,” he bitingly answered. 

“Eh, thought everyone else was used to it by now.” 

“I’m not, and I never will be. It’s insufferable.” 

“I guess you have a point,” Cherri agreed. “Anyway, since we’re over here with you now, why don’t you tell us what you’re in for? That seems like the general thing to ask when you meet new people here.” 

He sneered at her. “That’s none of your goddamn business.” 

“Fair enough.”

Husk ignored them for the most part after that while they waited for dinner to end. In the meantime, Cherri insisted that Angel tell her exactly what had happened (or didn’t happen) in the kitchens earlier. She nodded along as he spoke, but it was pretty obvious she was still very confused. 

“So, what I’m getting is that he attacked you?” 

“Uh, I don’t know? I don’t think so? I’m pretty sure it was just a hallucination, I think,” Angel tried to explain, now he was starting to get confused too. 

“Wow, I’ve been through withdrawal symptoms loads of times but I never got hallucinations that bad,” Cherri frowned, concerned. “Are you sure it’s not, um, something else?” 

Angel looked at her sideways. “What do you mean by that?” 

She shrugged. “When’s the last time you saw a psychiatrist?” 

He almost burst out laughing at the question. “I’m not crazy,” he said plainly. 

“I didn’t say that,” Cherri sighed, but decided to drop the topic. 

She looked over at Valentino and Vox, who had quieted down from earlier but were still engaged in an intense glare exchange. 

“I don’t get how you can stand to be near Valentino. He’s probably the worst, scummiest piece of trash in the entire goddamn world,” she ranted to Angel, her face scrunching up a bit just by looking at said piece of trash. 

“I don’t think he’s that bad, he’s just a bit snappy,” Angel said with a shrug. 

“I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to eat you yet or something.” 

Angel raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised my _roommate_ hasn’t tried to eat me yet.” 

Cherri laughed. “That too.” 

-

Soon after their conversation, the intercom came on to inform all inmates to go back to their cells. Angel gave Cherri a hug and waved to her as he walked back up the stairs to his room. 

When he got there, he was surprised to see Alastor sitting and reading a book on his bed. For some reason he had assumed that the room would be empty. 

Angel cautiously entered, not moving forward to draw any closer. He yelped when the door to his cell swung shut behind him, trapping him now even if he tried to run. Alastor didn’t look at him, he just turned the page and continued reading, his ever-present smile still presented proudly on his face. 

Finally, Angel inched closer, settling down onto his own mattress. He just kind of stared at Alastor in silence, waiting for something to happen. 

“Yes?” Alastor spoke up after a few minutes of awkward quietness. He still didn’t look up. 

“Um, what was that earlier?” Angel asked nervously, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Hm? What was what?” Alastor replied calmly. 

“In the kitchen.” 

“The kitchen? Are you referring to when you fainted? My dear, I have no clue as to why that occurred.” 

“B-but,” Angel stuttered. “You attacked me!”

Gently, and in no rush whatsoever, Alastor carefully placed the book down on the bed, finally facing his roommate. He looked Angel right in the eyes. 

“Attacked you? I don’t recall.” 

“I-I, what?” Angel stared at him in disbelief. “You did! You almost stabbed me!” 

“You look perfectly stab-free to me,” Alastor smiled, his eyes raking over Angel’s frame. 

Angel looked down to the floor. He was frustrated, especially because Alastor claimed to not know what he was talking about. He was starting to wonder if maybe he really was crazy. 

“You’re going through withdrawal, correct? Although I would never be so degenerate as to partake in recreational drug use, I am familiar with the symptoms. You probably just hallucinated the situation. As to why, I haven’t the slightest clue. Perhaps you find me alluring, I’m flattered,” Alastor concluded, picking his book up once again and resuming his place.

“I think I could make a guess as to why I imagined it,” Angel muttered, more so to himself than to his roommate. 

“Oh? Do tell.” 

“I don’t know, maybe because I witnessed you _murder_ someone? Yeah, that might have something to do with it!” Angel exclaimed, suddenly feeling very angry. It was completely Alastor’s fault that he was stuck here, after all. 

There was no reply from the other man. Angel thought he might have just ignored him until he looked up to find himself face to face with the maniac. Alastor seemed to be analyzing him, his gaze focused intensely on Angel’s face. 

“I sincerely apologize if that disturbed you,” he said primly after a short while. 

“Disturbed me? You ruined my entire life!” Angel cried, feeling tears start to well in his eyes from frustration. 

“Oops,” Alastor said, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. Angel was about to formulate a rather strong-worded response when Alastor suddenly slammed his arms out on either side of him. That seemed to be a theme lately. 

“You should know though,” he leaned in to growl next to Angel’s ear, barely audible. “That I can make it a lot worse for you if you don’t behave. After all, I’m only here because of you.”

Then he pulled away, leaving a rather shaken Angel staring after him in fear. 

“Because of me?” He squeaked. 

“Yes, that is what I said.” 

“But why?” 

Alastor put a finger to Angel’s chin, gently tilting his head to make the other man look up at him. 

“Because I wanted it to be so. I could have escaped if I wanted to, could have let all the blame fall onto you. But instead I decided to let myself get caught. You should be grateful,” he said flatly, his smile looking more like a mockery. 

Angel’s eyes widened and he instinctively swatted the other man’s hand away from his face. He immediately realized his mistake when Alastor’s eyebrows laced together with anger, a low snarl ripping from his throat. His demeanor changed from unsettling to sinister, and for just a moment his eyes appeared to glow red. 

Without thinking, Angel shot up and attempted to open the cell door, uselessly tugging on the bars to no avail. He was panicking, his head throbbing again as it had been that morning. The steel felt searing hot against his fingers. He pulled at the metal, not giving up his effort to bend it somehow, even if by sheer willpower alone. The rattling carried out down the hallway, earning groans and angry shouts from the other inmates trying to mind their own business. Still, Angel didn’t relent, desperately trying to get out. He couldn’t face those red eyes again. He was sure that he would not survive it. 

He continued to struggle, pouring every once of his less than average strength into his efforts, quickly tiring himself out. Hesitantly, he slumped his shoulders in defeat, accepting finally that there was no escape. 

When he didn’t feel anyone grab him or try to strangle him from behind, he turned to see that Alastor was still standing exactly where he had been before, all traces of his fury from monetarily earlier completely gone. He smiled just as brightly as before, one hand extended politely towards Angel. 

“You should get some rest now, it will make your symptoms more manageable.” 

Angel eyed him cautiously, weighing the consequences of not taking his hand. He decided based on the previous interaction that it would be best to just do as he was told. Once his palm fell onto Alastor’s, the man yanked him towards his own bed, shoving Angel onto it before he could object. He then climbed in after him, blocking his ability to tumble off. 

Angel held his breath, too terrified to even breathe as Alastor wrapped his arms around him from behind, spooning him as if they were a couple. He was shocked, confused, but most of all scared out of his fucking mind. Why would someone like Alastor, a notorious mass murderer, be cuddling with him? It made absolutely no sense to his mind. The encounter might have been pleasant if it were someone else who had their head nestled comfortably against his shoulder blades. 

He didn’t want to let himself close his eyes but at some point must have fallen asleep, his dreams plagued with nightmares just as they had been the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did it!! i was feeling really unmotivated to write this after i deleted it, but i’m happy that i did (and i hope you’re happy too!)


	6. Chapter 6

An entire week had passed since Angel arrived at the penitentiary. After his confrontation with Alastor in their cell, he had woken up to find the man nowhere in sight. He was nearing five whole days without seeing so much as the other man’s shadow, not that he was particularly upset about it. His nightmares on the other hand, just seemed to be getting worse. He couldn’t even close his eyes during the day anymore without grotesque images appearing behind his eyelids. Being awake wasn’t any better either; it had been a sufficient amount of time, but his hallucinations still hadn’t gone away. In fact, they were only getting stronger. He was almost certain he could feel them now. 

All of it combined was really straining on him; he could feel his mental state rapidly declining. Cherri was extremely worried, to the point where she had even asked the guards if she could stay in Angel’s cell with him at night. They had of course denied her request, to which she had hunted Stolas down to reprimand him about his lousy promise. In the end, there was nothing that could be done. 

Now Angel found himself sitting in the infirmary once again, as he had been instructed to do if his symptoms persisted. The nurse, who he had learned was named Niffty, was currently taking his blood pressure. As expected, the results were higher than normal, but she assured him that it was likely due to stress. Angel nodded, he certainly did have a whole lot of that available. 

“When did your hallucinations start getting worse?” Niffty asked, listening to his heartbeat with a stethoscope. 

“Um, the day after you saw me for the first time,” Angel replied. He couldn’t stop the feeling of dread nagging at the back of his mind. Something didn’t feel quite right. 

“And what do you usually see when you hallucinate?” 

“All kinds of stuff really, but mostly I don’t see anything at all. It’s more often like someone is whispering into my ear. Sometimes I think I can even feel them beside me. I can hear them breathe, I can sense their body heat. I don’t know if that’s normal…” He mumbled. When he said it out loud, he sounded even more like an insane person. 

“Hm. When you _do_ see things, what do you see?” Niffty questioned. She had moved to record what he was saying onto her clipboard. 

“I usually see some sort of animal, out of the corner of my eye. I think it might be a deer? I’m not completely sure though, I’ve never been able to look at it fully.”

“Okay, anything else?” 

“I’ve been seeing red eyes everywhere. I see them when I look in the mirror, when I’m sitting in my cell at night, watching me from the shadowed corners,” Angel looked as if just explaining it terrified him completely. 

Niffty was quiet as she finished writing down what he was saying. She looked up at him warily, as if she was unsure of his mental state and therefore didn’t want to get too close. 

“I think it would be a good idea to send a blood sample to the nearby hospital so they can check to make sure this isn’t anything serious,” she said gently, as if addressing someone much younger than her. 

Angel nodded, he wasn’t particularly fond of needles, but was anxious to know what the hell was going on with him. He rolled up the sleeve of his orange jumpsuit and tightly screwed his eyes shut when Niffty stuck the needle into his arm. When he opened them, she was holding a small vial full of dark red liquid. Just by seeing the color alone he was reminded of Alastor’s demonic form, leaning over his victim in that dim alleyway. He shivered involuntarily, willing himself to put the image out of his head. 

Suddenly, Angel saw something move just outside his field of vision, whipping around quickly to face the culprit. However nothing was there, just the medicine cabinets as they had been when he arrived. 

“Angel,” a voice called softly from behind him.

“What?” He asked, turning to face Niffty with growing paranoia. 

She frowned intently at him, taking a subconscious step away. “I didn’t say anything.” 

Angel stared at her blankly. Was that another hallucination? He had never been able to make out what the whispers were saying before. That just made him even more worried. 

“Am I going insane?” He blurted out suddenly, his desperation bleeding into his words.

Niffty hesitated before answering. “No…” 

“Really? Because it sure as hell feels like I am! I can’t deal with this anymore! Why won’t he just get out of my damn head!” He cried, a bit more aggressively than he intended. His hands pulled at his hair in frustration, threatening to rip it out. 

Niffty watched silently, waiting for Angel to calm down. “Would you like to meet with a therapist? I can put in a request for you.” 

Angel blinked. He had never considered going to therapy when he was free, and god knows he needed it even back then. He nodded slowly, avoiding Niffty’s eyes. She walked around to her desk, typing something into her computer before she returned.

“Alright, you are free to go now. A guard will inform you when the results of the blood test come back. I would like to speak with you again at that time,” she said, the atmosphere in the room now a bit tense. 

Angel nodded again, standing up sluggishly and facing towards the door. Niffty smiled at him as he exited, but he could tell she was happy that he was leaving. 

As promised, Cherri was again waiting for him outside the infirmary, her arms crossed over her chest and an extremely bored look on her face, which changed instantly when she saw him emerge. 

“Angel! Are you okay? What did the nurse say?” She didn’t allow him time to react before she threw her arms around his body and pulled him into a tight hug. 

“She’s sending a blood sample to the hospital. Oh, and she set me up with a therapist.” 

Cherri smiled brightly at him. “That’s good. Don’t stress about it! I’m sure your blood work will come back negative, and having a therapist could be really good for you! Especially with everything you’ve been through, it must have been very traumatic.” 

Angel grinned slightly. No matter how hopeless he felt, ever since he had met Cherri she had done a wonderful job of lifting his spirits. 

“Thanks, I hope you’re right.” 

“When have I been wrong?” She smirked, grabbing his hand. “Come on, Stolas brought his daughter to work today so he wants all the prisoners to gather in the dining hall for a demonstration. Guess he wants her to eventually follow in his footsteps, so we gotta be on our best behavior to make a good impression.” 

“Oh, okay. What, is it like ‘bring your kid to work day’ or something?” Angel asked as they set down the hall together. 

“Yeah, something like that,” Cherri shrugged. 

-

When they arrived at the dining hall, they were asked to divide into straight, single file lines with their hands at their sides. Angel stood at attention with Cherri to his right, awaiting instruction. He couldn’t help but feel as if he were training in the army or something. 

“So sorry to distract you all from your free time, but I have a very special guest with me today! This is my daughter, Octavia!” Stolas announced from the front of the room, gesturing to the girl next to him who looked like she would rather be literally anywhere else in the world. 

“I would just like to demonstrate to her what a typical day is like. So I will let her take it from here, just follow directions and do whatever she tells you to.” 

Octavia rolled her eyes, clearly not into what was going on. Lazily she waved a hand and said “I don’t know, do push-ups or something.” 

Angel groaned, he had been doing an excessive amount of push-ups lately, but he still wasn’t any better at them. The problem was likely that he possessed no physical upper body strength whatsoever. 

“Hey! You heard her! Drop down and get on with it!” A guard pointed at him from the left side of the room, a sneer plastered on her face. 

Angel sighed and did as he was told, placing his hands onto the cold tile floor and struggling to push his body off the ground. 

“Uh, you guys can stand up now I guess,” Octavia said dismissively. The inmates immediately stood back at attention. 

“How about, um planks? I guess that’s kind of like push-ups but whatever,” she mumbled. 

Angel frowned but got back into position, his arms quickly starting to grow shakey, threatening to collapse underneath him. When he couldn’t hold himself up anymore, he let his chest fall. 

“Hey!” The same guard from earlier called out. Angel craned his neck to see her quickly advancing towards him. “Get up! She didn’t tell you to stop yet.” 

He struggled uselessly to extend his arms again, but they collapsed for a second time as he let out a pained grunt. His eyes widened and he yelped in shock when he felt something hit him in the middle of his back, right on his spine. He looked up to see the guard holding her metal baton in her hand, poised to strike him again. 

“Katie!” A surprised cry came from the right, before Charlie rushed over to wrestle the baton out of the other woman’s grasp. 

“Stay out of this!” Katie snarled, raising her fists at Charlie. 

“What’s going on over there?” Stolas called from where he stood at the front of the room, moving to go see what all the commotion was about. 

“ _Sir_ ,” Katie hissed that first word like it was poison. “This inmate wasn’t following directions! I was simply disciplining him.” 

When Stolas looked down to notice that Angel was the inmate in question, he quickly tried to remedy the situation. “Ah, yes, but this is just a presentation for my daughter, no need to-”

Suddenly there was a scream from the other side of the room. Angel shot up and whipped around to see Octavia, surrounded by a group of inmates that were circling in on her quickly. One of them lunged forward and closed a giant hand around her throat. Her eyes widened, scratching at her neck, desperately trying to breathe. 

“Oh my god! Octavia!” Stolas screeched, rushing over and trying to get to her. He was punched square across the face by one of the other prisoners, an angry red mark that was sure to bruise later blooming onto his cheek. He fell to the floor, unconscious. 

The other guards ran over, all pointing their weapons towards the group but hesitant to attack, in fear that they might set off a prison riot or accidentally harm Octavia further. The room was silent as the guards and inmates stared each other down, Octavia occasionally letting out strained choking noises. 

“Unhand her at once,” a firm voice commanded from nearby. Everyone turned to see Alastor standing calmly, his hands held together properly behind his back. 

The man holding Octavia released his grip around her throat immediately, and she slumped to the ground, gasping harshly for air. 

“My dear, are you alright?” Alastor asked, offering her a hand to help her up, which she did not take. 

Charlie and Vaggie both ran over, helping her stand and quickly whisking her away out of the room. Vaggie shot Alastor a pointed look as she slipped out the door. The man just sighed and turned again, walking straight past Angel and up the stairs to their cell. 

“Wow,” Cherri said softly beside him, completely dumbfounded. “I wonder what his deal is.” 

Angel stared after him blankly. “Yeah, I wonder too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i’m tired lol


	7. Chapter 7

Angel was panicking. The guards had just announced at breakfast that today was visiting day, meaning that the inmates would have an opportunity to see their relatives again. Part of him was excited, hopeful at the thought of talking to his twin sister, but he was also afraid. What if she hated him now? What if he couldn’t face her? What if she didn’t even come at all? What if she had already given up on him? 

He felt his nervousness rising as he and the rest of the prisoners were led down the hallway to the visiting room. He settled into one of the booths, a large pane of glass dividing him from the rest of the world. He held the telephone in his hand so tightly that his knuckles turned white. A minute passed, then two. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, anxiously waiting for someone to show up. When it seemed as though nobody would, a person entered the room and sat down in front of him, but it wasn’t who he was expecting.

“A-Arackniss?” Angel choked out in surprise. Never would he have thought that his brother would come to visit. “What are you doing here?” 

Arackniss stared at him with disinterest, leaning back in his chair and lighting a cigar. He didn’t say anything for a while, just blew smoke between his teeth, which curled into fancy spirals.

“I should be the one asking you that,” he spoke into the receiver phone clutched in his other hand, taking another slow drag from his cigar. 

“I-I,” Angel stuttered, trying to find the words to explain. “D-don’t you already know?” 

Arackniss fell silent again, studying the sight of his brother in an orange jumpsuit, all of his usual care-free, reckless dynamism completely gone. He couldn’t say that he felt pity for his younger sibling, in fact all he felt was a hollow loathing.

“Yeah, I know. It was all over the news. Still is.” He muttered, his face remaining stoic. 

“Please, don’t think I’m some kind of monster. I didn’t do it,” Angel insisted, the phone held against his ear beginning to shake. 

“Why should I care whether you did it or not? I do that kinda shit everyday. It’s just business.”

“B-but, I told you that I wanted to be different! Even if you don’t care, I still want you to know the truth.”

Arackniss shook his head, sighing. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you let yourself get caught.” 

“I- but, I didn’t mean to! I couldn’t help it! Alastor was there, and-” Angel tried desperately to explain before his brother raised a hand to silence him. 

“I don’t want to hear it. You’re here now, and that reflects badly on _me_.” 

“On you? But you had nothing to do with it.”

Arackniss let out an annoyed grunt, raising his cigar to his lips once more. “Father thinks it’s my fault for not preparing you well enough. As your older brother, your responsibilities always fall onto me, whether I want them or not.”

Angel was silent, not knowing what to say. 

“See, I bet you never even thought of that,” Arackniss continued. “How whenever you’re off whoring about, _I’m_ the one who has to stay behind to deal with your bullshit. I spent so long trying to help you, to train you to become a successful member of our family, just for you to always whine and cry and push my efforts away like a spoiled fucking child. And then guess what happens? _I_ get punished when it should be _you_ ,” he spat, his expression twisting more and more into a scowl the longer he spoke.

Angel reached out towards his brother as effectively as he could from behind the glass. “I didn’t know-” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Arackniss cut him off. “You’re in prison now so that means I don’t have to deal with you anymore. I hope you’re grateful that I took all of his beatings instead of you, because it’s your fault that my back will never heal.” 

With that, the short man stood up and stomped out of the room, a trail of smoke following behind him. Angel stared after him blankly, tears running down his face with the telephone still pressed close to his ear. It wasn’t long before another person walked up to the glass and sat down, startling Angel while he quickly wiped at his face with the sleeve of his jumpsuit. He looked up to see the face of his twin sister staring back at him. 

“Molly!” He cried out, smiling despite himself. 

His sister looked at him sadly, picking up the phone but not saying anything for a long while. 

“Hi Anthony,” she said at last. It was obvious that she was fighting to keep her voice steady. 

Angel frowned, she never called him that unless she was upset or angry with him. 

“Please,” he mumbled quietly. “Don’t believe it. I didn’t. I promised you that I would never, and I wouldn’t break a promise I made to you. You know that, right?” 

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Molly shook her head, trying to steady her breathing. 

“I didn’t do it,” Angel said sternly, placing his hand onto the glass. His sister looked at his hand but didn’t move. 

“Please,” he said again. 

She sighed and reached up to place her hand onto his. “Okay, I believe you.” 

Angel smiled, exhaling slightly in relief. “How have things been at home without me?” He asked. 

“Honestly, not that great. Henroin has been making everything living hell for us,” Molly replied, looking away. 

“Oh god, I hope he isn’t hurting you,” Angel frowned. 

Molly quickly shook her head. “No, he hasn’t hurt me, Arackniss is a different story though. I wish it were different. Father is angry that you’re in jail, but I feel like it still wouldn’t be any better if you weren’t.” 

“Oh…” Angel’s shoulders slumped slightly. 

“No, no! I didn’t mean it like that!” Molly exclaimed. “Of course I would rather have you home than in prison. It would make all the difference in the world. It’s honestly been really depressing without having you to talk to.” 

She looked at Angel’s face to see the tears that had started to roll down his cheeks once again. 

“Oh no, don’t cry!” 

“I’m sorry,” Angel sobbed quietly. “It’s just that, I hate it here so much. I want to go home. I want to be able to see you everyday. I don’t want to be stuck here. I don’t want to be roommates with the person who ruined my life. I don’t want to be forced to sit there and do nothing while he torments me! I need you, I don’t know how to get through the rest of my life without you!” 

“Oh Angel,” Molly said softly. The barrier between them felt like it stretched on for miles. “I wish I could help, but you know that I can’t go to the police without the risk of exposing our family…” 

“I don’t want you to go to the police. It’s not like they could help me anyway. If anything, they would just make everything worse. What I want is for all of this to just go away.” 

“Don’t give up hope. If you’re really innocent then there’s still a chance.” 

Angel nodded at Molly’s words, but it was clear that he wasn’t feeling exactly optimistic. He cleared his throat and wiped his face again. 

“I have to go now,” Molly said quietly, trying to keep a smile on her face. 

“Really? You can’t stay for any longer?” Angel pleaded softly. 

“I really wish I could, but they will kick me out if I try.” 

“Promise me that you’ll come back on the next visiting day?” 

“I promise,” she said as she got up and walked away.

-

When the day was almost over, Angel found himself sitting on his mattress. He was beginning to feel his depression seep back, despite having moved on from it many years ago. He wondered now if it had ever even left, or if it was just sitting quietly in the back of his mind, waiting for the opportunity to barge back into his life. 

Cherri had told him about her mother, who had come to visit her just to remind her how much of a disappointment she was. He had tried to be supportive, but Cherri didn’t seem to want to listen, and Angel wasn’t really able to put his whole heart into comforting her. Blitzo had been visited by his adopted daughter, Loona, who had only stopped by out of necessity and had left almost as soon as she came. Blitzo had spent the rest of the day locked in his cell, crying about what a failure of a father he was. Not even Stolas could convince him to come out. It seemed as though everyone was feeling mutually hopeless. 

Angel was starting to become very angry with himself. He was angry that he hadn’t tried to run when the police arrested him. He was angry that he hadn’t tried harder to plead his innocence in court. He was angry that he had even been walking down that street the night it happened. If only he had chosen a club in another part of town, then none of this would have ever happened. He had kept telling himself that this whole situation wasn’t his fault, but now he was beginning to believe that it was. It was his fault for not trying harder to avoid it. It was his fault for being so weak. 

The sound of cheerful humming shook him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see Alastor walking into the cell. He was smiling just as brightly as ever, you couldn’t even tell that he was a stone-cold murder with that façade he always maintained. 

“Good evening!” He greeted Angel warmly, sitting down on his bed to read another one of his flowery novels. 

Angel glared at him with pure resentment, but part of him was starting to feel less hatred towards Alastor, and more towards himself. 

“Just leave me alone. Please, I’m not in the mood for your bullshit tonight.” 

“Oh?” Alastor raised an eyebrow as he turned the page. “Are you upset over something?” 

“It’s none of your business. It isn’t important anyway,” Angel mumbled, drawing his legs into his chest. 

“Why don’t you try me? I’ve always been a great listener.” 

“Why would I ever vent my issues to _you_? You’re literally the source of most of them,” he replied bitterly. 

“Is that so? Well I can’t make them right if you refuse to tell me what’s wrong.” 

“Make it right? _Make it right_? How could you _possibly_ make it right!? Unless you’re a fucking wizard or something who can teleport me out of jail, or reverse time, I don’t think there’s anything you could do!” Angel spat, raising his voice louder than he intended to. His emotions were beginning to overflow, and he couldn’t do anything to stop them from tipping over.

“So you’re upset that you’re in prison?” Alastor asked, crossing his legs. “Personally, I don’t think it’s that bad. Free food, free place to sleep, free entertainment. What’s so bad about all of that?” 

“What do you mean ‘what’s so bad’!? Of course it’s bad! I’m a criminal now! I’m a murderer! I’ll never be the same again, even if I do get out of here by some miracle!” 

Alastor grinned wider, “So you’re calling yourself a murderer now? That’s quite the title.” 

Angel stared at him, blinking slowly. “I, I just- no! I’m not the murderer, you are! You killed that person, not me!” 

“I only killed them because of you,” Alastor replied, continuing to read his book without looking up. 

“You _what_?” Angel felt bile rise in his throat. 

“I only killed them because of you,” Alastor repeated. 

“W-why?” Angel choked out quietly, his eyes wide and focused intently on the man sitting across from him. 

“Because I wanted you to be sent here.” 

“I don’t understand…”

“Hm, let me explain this to you as simply as I can. Your father owed me, and when he couldn’t deliver, I took matters into my own hands,” Alastor sighed, putting his book down to face his roommate properly. 

“What did he owe you for?” Angel asked numbly. 

“For not killing him when he stole from me.” 

“What did he steal?”

“Does it matter? He shouldn’t have stolen anything at all,” Alastor narrowed his eyes slightly. 

“Why me?” Angel mumbled, a tear rolling down his face. 

“Why not? He cares about you, does he not?” 

“No. You should’ve just killed him,” he said bitterly. 

Alastor laughed lightly. “Is that so? Rumor has it he’s actually rather upset.” 

“Why didn’t you just kill me then? Instead of framing me for murder?” 

“Well, I doubt your father would have been as affected. After all, he would probably rather have you dead than as an embarrassment to his family. And besides, this way is more entertaining,” Alastor’s smile became predatory as he gazed at the other. 

“But, why did you let yourself get arrested too? Why not just run and let me take all the blame?” 

“So many questions! I don’t know if I can answer that one… maybe there’s just something about you that I like. Or maybe I’m just bored, that could be it too!” 

Angel stared at the wall. He didn’t know what to think. Part of him was mad at his father for being such an idiot. He was mad at himself for that too. He was scared what would happen if Alastor got bored of him. He was upset to know that an innocent person was dead because of him. 

“How could you kill someone like that? Someone I wasn’t even involved with? Someone who probably had a family, a lover, maybe even children? How could you do that and not even bat an eye? How can I live with myself knowing that someone is dead because of me? Does that mean I deserve to be here? Do I deserve it because their death was partly my fault? How could you ruin my life like this, and not even care?” Angel blurted out, not trying to stop himself from crying hysterically. 

Alastor watched him in silence as he had his breakdown. At some point he stood from his bed to sit next to Angel, carefully draping an arm around his shoulder. 

“I do care, that’s why I’m here,” he whispered, almost comfortingly. 

“No you don’t! Don’t lie to me!”

“I care about you, Angel,” he said firmly, turning to draw the other man into a hug. 

Angel instantly stiffened. He didn’t know how to feel about all the information that was just dropped on him. He didn’t know how to feel about the man who had done all of this to him, holding him in an embrace. He was confused, he was scared, and his hatred for himself was growing like a weed in his mind. His emotions were overwhelming, he desperately wanted everything to go away. So he didn’t move, he didn’t pull back. He let the person who ruined his life hold him and pet his hair soothingly, telling him that everything would be alright. At that moment he didn’t see the hypocrisy in it, or maybe he just didn’t care. He let himself cry into Alastor’s shoulder, hanging onto him as if he were the only thing in his life that he still had left. And as much as he hated to admit it, maybe he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm literally going to cry :'(


End file.
